Menstrual cycles don't only affect women

WILL RENICK
DM Arts and Life Editor

Women are strange, erratic creatures. I don't mean that in a bad way. I've recently learned something about women that gives a whole new dimension to the "feminine mystique." I have lived in four matriarchal households: in my own, with the pregnant girl and the nudist, with a pride of four lesbians, and currently, the Daily Mississippian. All were bizarre learning experiences, and luckily I survived.

One of the things you have to understand about women is their period. I know it's difficult, so foreign to males that it's almost inconceivable. The period, as many of you know, is the flushing of the un-impregnated egg from the female body. It involves rages of emotions, gushes of blood and feminine hygeine products. This phase of women is often hard to understand and even harder to endure. Tampons and anti-cramp medications are displayed in plain sight -- on the counter of the bathroom next to your toothbrush seems to be a favorite.

Ladies, do you know what this does to guys? We see these white tubes laying around and cringe on the inside. I realize that these kind of things are second nature to you, you don't even think about them, but feminine hygiene is some scary stuff. Don't get me wrong, we're glad you do it, but please don't bombard us with menstruation imagery. It's just not cool.

But that is just scratching the scab of horror. True terror comes with the realization that this happens with bizarre synchronicity. Living with multiple women, I learned that once one cycle begins, it activates the crimson tide in all surrounding women. Women, friends and roommates, bleed in sync with each other, and sometimes the change isn't even conscious. Let's use a visual example: Ashley goes and starts chomping Midol, which activates the latent period within April. April goes downstairs for a glass of water, this setting off Ernestine and Rachel. It's a fiendish chain reaction.

Menstrual cycles are a lot like Vonnegut's "Ice Nine": they change everything they touch.

I was scared that I would catch it and have my body violated by chemically-induced emotions that I couldn't control, much less understand.

It starts with several days of fascist terror, with everyone mad at each other, unwashed dishes giving birth to World War 3, and so on. And being the only guy around during the bloody maelstrom, things get a little crazy. You become central to the fight, menstrual tendrils gobbling you up into the throes of war. And the sad part is that there's nothing you can do about it. You cannot fight or curse out a giant raging hormone. You just have to brace yoruself and ride the wave of agony for a few days, putting up with flying plates, backstabbing and the fury of hell unleashed.

This tender time only lasts a few days, until the women all realize that each other are bleeding. Blood flows, the moon rises, and eventually everything returns to normal.